You're already ignoring everything you'd normally do, anyway.

Your friend Xia had dragged you off to the mall with the explicit intent of getting you a "sexier wardrobe" a few weeks ago, and you still hadn't worn any of it. You figure, what the hell? You might as well get dressed up, right? Why not? On your way through your room, you randomly decide to flick on the radio which starts playing music softly.

You head to your closet, digging through to the back where everything Xia bought had ended up. First to come out is the pair of four-inch black heels, which you toss towards the door to await your finished attire change. Next you fish up a hand full of different outfit choices, each of which you lay out on the bed. Somehow, you manage to catch your hand on the underwear she had bought you as well. A blush rises to your cheeks as you remember the moment, asking her why she had to get things no one was going to see. She just laughed, saying that you wouldn't be saying that if you were wearing what she was getting you.

Something inaudible in the music sends a shock through your mind, leaving your body with a shiver. Hurriedly, you strip entirely, replacing you boring, plain underwear with the skimpy black thong. Releasing the garment, you blink. A blush rushes to your face; what had possessed you to need to get it on your body immediately?

Shaking your head and taking a deep breath, you turn towards the outerwear laid out on the bed.

There's the stereotypical "little black dress." You imagine that one for more of an upscale restaurant or invite-only event, so you pass on it.

The ensemble of a bright red miniskirt barely the length of your hand and a shirt with just as much cleavage exposed as mid-drift is tempting. However, the shirt has a hard time staying where it exposed the standard cleavage or showed some serious underboob, so it probably wouldn't be the best choice for a potentially packed dance floor.

The cerulean dress comes with a V-neck so deep, it may even terminate below your actual breasts. That the halter top actually ties behind your neck provides a risk of that cleavage increasing to the point where the term no longer applies. The skirt doesn't even cover your entire ass, the bottom hem just short of shielding your lower cheeks. Sure, it probably wouldn't fare great for the dancing portion of your plans, but...

As a murmur underlying the music infiltrates your ears, your blush grows-- along with your smile. Somehow, the idea of your dress riding up-- or being pushed up-- while on the club's dance floor, surrounded by warm bodies, by total strangers; of the knot at the top coming loose-- or being untied-- and exposing your chest for all to see... Somehow, that brings a moisture which begins to absorb into your thong.

Within a minute, the blue garment is hugging your figure like a second skin, conforming to your every curve. You reach back behind your neck, tying the straps into place as tightly as possible without crushing your larger C-cup tits. That would not be pleasant.

Finally, you turn towards your mirror. The last time you had seen yourself in this dress, Xia was forcing you into it in a department store dressing room. At the time, you had hated the idea of wearing something so scandalously skimpy. Now, it sends a wave of heat through your entire being.

More **** orders enter your mind, and you make for your bathroom, taking the opportunity to practice how to walk in a way that won't draw the hem up by itself too easily. Entering the room, you flick on the lights. It takes some rummaging through drawers, but you manage to find your make-up collection. It's nothing extravagant-- just stuff you've collected over the years, from gifts to what you wore for your brother's wedding.

It takes a bit longer due to inexperience, but you emerge dolled up with smokey black-and-white eye shadow, lashes and eyeliner making your eyes like larger than they really are, and bold red lips. Your long, blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun in anticipation of how hot a mass of bodies dancing wildly will actually be.

Finally, you turn towards the heels. These ankle-breakers are another of Xia's buys. Strappy black with four inch heels, they would no doubt accentuate your... ahem... assets. As you stand from putting them on, you nearly topple to the floor. Before you go anywhere in these, you need to practice balancing on such narrow surface area. Keeping a hand on the wall for support, you pace back and forth. Once you feel stable enough, you move away from thee crutch. Soon enough, you're strutting like a pro.

Returning to the mirror for one last look, you can barely believe you're looking at yourself. The woman before you looks downright hot.

Xia would be so proud.

With that, it's time. You snag your wallet, hesitating for a moment. Where the hell were you going to put it? You don't have a purse that would go with this get-up, much less one you could take to place like a club.

Glancing about despite being entirely alone, you pull out your ID and credit card. That should be all you really need to bring, right? Taking a deep breath, you move to tuck them under the front of your dress.

Much to your embarrassed, pleased surprise, whoever designed this thing clearly thought of this exact situation, a little pocket hiding along the hem. It was just the right size for the two cards, as well.

Now you're ready.